What Better Call Saul Taught Me About Holy Communion

May 12, 2026 by Matthew Allen

Better Call Saul

AMC

Sacred Sommeliers

In between postgrad assignments, I've been on an intermittent binge of Better Call Saul, the follow-on show to Breaking Bad. So far, it's been a wonderful ride. It even spawned an idea for an(other) article about Holy Communion. Either the Breaking Bad universe is rich in theological subtext, or I have a one-track mind. I'm almost sure it's the latter…

There is a character-driven scene in Better Call Saul, in which Gus Fring (Giancarlo Esposito) is at a wine bar. The fried-chicken tycoon is brooding over a glass of red, when a sommelier comes over. The sommelier notices that Fring isn't enthused about his drink; and so, he discards the mediocre wine. Then, he dashes off to retrieve a more suitable vintage.

This new beverage is more to Fring's taste; and, while he swirls it around, the sommelier begins to wax lyrical about how the vintage hails from iron-rich soils in southern France. I'm not sure whether this is normal service in a wine bar, to be regaled with such details. I've set foot in a total of one such establishment in the two-and-a-half decades I've walked on this earth …and I didn't even order wine.

Like the sommelier from Better Call Saul, consumer wines also use narrative to build a memorable brand. There is one that makes a regular appearance on our sideboard at home. It's an Australian wine called 19 Crimes; and it leans into the stories of British criminals, who were shipped off to the penal colonies. I'll admit, it stands out from other, more conventional brands.

This intersection between wine, a drink which exists in cultures around the world, and the narrative strategies of its vendors, made me think about how we serve wine in church. Because the Church, like the wine bar from Better Call Saul, is a place where narrative and wine are interwoven.

But first, as in Gus Fring's trip to the wine bar, it is the Church's task to relieve our patrons of the bland, flavourless liquid in their hand, which is forgetfulness of God. This is a drink that neither satisfies nor quenches. Confession, one of the first acts in our Eucharistic liturgy, takes this bland, flavourless liquid and rinses it down the sink. Then, absolution cleanses the palate. It removes all impurities from our spiritual tastebuds to let us discern the grace in the sacramental wine.

However, before we taste and see for ourselves, we need to listen to the chasuble-clad sommelier behind the altar. Otherwise, who will tell us the remarkable narrative of the wine before us? Perfected in the hills of Jerusalem in biblical times, this is an old and celebrated vintage, beloved of countless generations. It was instituted with words of thankfulness to God, even as the darkness of the crucifixion closed in.

It is a wine that is to be shared, not one to be consumed alone on the sofa with a rerun of Gilmore Girls. That's because this wine seals the covenant we have with our fellow communicants, to serve one another; and the covenant we have with God, to serve him. It binds us closer to the Church, and to the Father, as we remember the sacrifice that Christ made for us. It is a wine that lives, not one to be corked and stowed in a cellar.

There are benefits for the soul in this wine. Sometimes, Christians are nervous that salvation can be lost; however, the blood of Christ, which is real and imminent in the sacramental wine, is able to "keep [us] in eternal life". It reassures us and eases these unfounded worries.

After all have received their share, and the remnants have been consumed, then we come to the bill! Such a fine wine, with all those benefits for the soul, carries a fee. The cost is no less, and no more, than "our souls and bodies". Regardless of status, the cost of life in Christ, for that's the word that Bonhoeffer uses, is identical for us all.

"Our souls and bodies" is an ask and a half, but it's one that we don't mind because it's worth it. Customers on a soul-budget have to settle for the bland, flavourless, wine from before – that is, forgetfulness of God – and unlike the wine of Christ, it isn't a drink that satisfies. Besides, when compared to the real deal, the discount version doesn't hold a candle!

Priests, who facilitate all this, wear different hats in their vocation: administrator, counsellor, teacher… But when he or she celebrates Holy Communion, the role is to be something of a sacred sommelier: someone who serves valuable wine in the correct manner, and who communicates the remarkable narrative behind that wine.

We, too, have a role in this God-narrative. Christ invites us all to sit at God's table, to drink the wine that satisfies. It is not ours to hinder the one who comes to taste and see for themselves. Indeed, our task, as Christians, is to break down such barriers, to show the seeker and searcher how the God-narrative touches them. Because all deserve to know themselves loved and valued.

5/12/2026 5:57:10 PM

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About Matthew Allen

Matthew Allen is a writer and musician based in Northern Ireland. He is a graduate of Queen’s University, Belfast, where he studied Theology and Liberal Arts.

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